


i never wanted it all, til i found you

by harukatenoh



Category: Hyper Light Drifter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harukatenoh/pseuds/harukatenoh
Summary: Even the best ranger in the world is nothing without a partner, and you have been alone for so long.





	i never wanted it all, til i found you

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to my dearest beane. u should've seen this one coming
> 
> work title is from trying to kill the moon by motherfolk

The drift is cold and endless. It surrounds you, an encompassing and gentle invasion as it fills up your eyes, your nose, your mouth. The drift is cold but it is home, and it welcomes you back.

When you leave its steady embrace and step back into your life, there is shouting. It is your newest partner, soon to be your newest ex-partner, judging by the way he throws his helm to the side and storms off after shooting you a distraught look.

With more dignity than he had, you slip off your helm as well and roll your shoulders, stepping out of the controls and following behind. You trail long enough that he has finished whatever he wanted to say to the supervisor by the time you arrive, and now he stands with his arms crossed and gaze directed pointedly away from you.

The person supervising your trial drift sighs and shakes her head, dismissing him. You don’t move.

“At ease, Ranger,” she says, and you relax your posture. She has a sympathetic look on her face, and she’s lucky that you’re beyond caring about misplaced sympathy. You wonder how she managed to end up here, she seems entirely too soft for this kind of life. It’s clear she doesn’t enjoy fighting this war—well, nobody does, but the way disappointment weighs at her shoulders is obvious.

She says “That’s the last one,” sounding apologetic. It’s obviously not her fault, so you shrug. “We’ll try to find another candidate, but the Marshall’s instructions say if you couldn’t find a partner by now then you’d be taken off of active duty,”

She seems sad about this, and you don’t like that, so you shrug and smile. “Please don’t worry about me,” you tell her, “I will be fine.”

She gives you a smile, and it’s still sad, but it’s not as bad as it could’ve been. “You’re one of our best rangers,” she says, “I’m sure you’ll find somebody,”

It is a misplaced hope, but you don’t let this bother you either. She does not know what you know, she still believes in the half-lies that the other supervisors and trainers tell her about you. Half-lies, because they were true once. The best ranger in the business, they would say. Able to drift with anybody, a skilled fighter, a dedicated cadet.

Too bad it is not drifting with people that’s your problem, it’s making them stay. And as much as you wish it would be otherwise, a ranger is nothing without a drift partner.

You make your way back to your quarters, stopping by the cafeteria to grab some food. The people move around you as you do, like water around a rock; the pervading, soft avoidance wears at you day by day. One or two people, those who are in the same program as you and have known you for a long, long time, look sympathetic. You know that it is a sympathy based in understanding, in acceptance, so you do not begrudge them of it.

The others are not so kind. Some stare outright, some pointedly look away, and none dare approach. You are used to it. You know the horror stories that the other rangers, the other cadets, the other workers, tell about you.

_You step up to the door of the Marshal’s office but before you knock, you hear voices. You would feel bad about eavesdropping if it weren’t so obvious that neither party in the conversation cared about who overheard._

_“—can’t do it anymore, you don’t understand. Drifting with him is like… it’s… it’s_ wrong _. It feels wrong. If I have to drift with him again I’ll go out of my mind.”_

_It’s the voice of your current partner, who you’ve had for about two months. Two months, which is two months shorter than how long your last partner had lasted. You wonder if this is going to become a pattern._

_“Very well, Ranger. Your assignment will be changed.”_

_That is the voice of the Marshal, imposing and chilling and unfeeling. You wonder if you’ve been called here for a lecture._

_The door opens and you come face to face with your partner. Ex-partner. He looks shocked, looking back over his shoulder at the Marshal, then looking back and opening his mouth to say something._

_He can tell, that you’ve heard, so his explanations die on his tongue. The two of you stand in silence for how long, you can’t tell, but eventually he moves to go past you and you move out of his way._

_As he passes, he says “I’m sorry,”, and you know he means it. You had liked him. He had been pleasant, quick to smile and a quiet drifter, and you’ll be sorry to see him go._

_You nod at him and smile, signalling your acceptance, and then he’s gone. You look through the open door. The Marshal stands within sight now, and you figure that you probably shouldn’t go in. They simply give you a look, and you realize that you’ve already heard the lesson you’re supposed to be learning._

_You nod. They nod and walk further into the room._

_You step forward to close their door and sigh, letting your shoulders sag with the movement._

* * *

 Being off duty is agonising.

You don’t know what to do with yourself now that your time is your own and you’re without purpose. You’ve spent your entire life on this, given up everything for this, and now it feels like you’ve had every sense of direction ripped from you.

“You could train the cadets,” an ex-ranger suggests. An old friend, if only because you met when you were both so young and alone that it was a necessity to stick together. You pull a face, and he laughs. It’s a good look on him, you think, because there’s so little to laugh about lately.

“Good point,” he says, taking another sip of his beer. “You’d probably make them cry or something,”

You roll your eyes because you know for a fact that he has made cadets cry once, and instead change the topic. Nudging his can of beer, you say “Aren’t trainers supposed to stay sober?”

He grimaces. “The kids are going for their first real run tomorrow. I’m coping,”

You nod. “Empty nest. I see.”

“Don’t make me sound like a middle-aged mother,”

You stay quiet. He sighs and nurses his can of beer in silence as well.

“Maybe this is good,” he says, after a while. “You should go, travelling or like, something fun. Adventure.”

You think it’s about time you get in some combat training before curfew.

You stand up, taking your tray with you, and your companion rolls his eyes and says “Or ignore me. That’s fine too,”

You don’t respond, because you don’t need to. You know that he’s not serious, that he gets it. After all, he quit the force and yet he’s still here.

* * *

 Your salvation comes sometime later, when you’ve resorted to staying in your room and playing music loudly all the time to block out the sounds of the kaiju alarms. It makes your skin crawl, not knowing what’s happening, but it’s better still than knowing and not being able to do anything.

There’s a knock on your door, and it takes you a while to hear it over the noise. You turn it down and walk over to your door, prepared to fend off more suggestions from your old friend about things to do or silent lectures from the Marshal.

Instead, you find the supervisor from last time, accompanied by somebody you don’t know.

She says “Hello, Ranger! I have great news! We’ve found you a possible drift partner,” She turns to her companion, who meets your eyes and nods at you. You nod back, unsure what to make of the situation. There’s something about him that seems familiar to you, but you can’t pin what or where from.

He says “Pleasure to meet you,” and puts out his hand. You do the same, nodding in place of a response when you find that your words have dried up in your mouth.

The supervisor looks between the two of you, trying her best to smile enough to make up for your lacklustre reactions, and tells you “You should suit up! The Marshal wants to run the trial as soon as possible,”

Suddenly, it sets in for you, that this is  _your chance_ , and you’re nodding rapidly and retreating into your room before remembering your manners and stopping halfway in the motion.

You look back at him. He seems… neutral. You say “... I look forward to working with you,” and he responds in kind: a nod, before turning away.

The supervisor looks between the two of you and nods as well, saying “Okay, meet on the grounds in twenty minutes,”

You close the door and let yourself smile for the first time in the past few weeks.

When you arrive, all suited up and ready to go, you’re a little early. You decide to take a seat, waiting for the rest of the crew, and your new partner, to show up.

Then, there are voices. You recognize both of them: one as the last partner you had, and one as the newest candidate.

“He can drift with anyone, right? Why did you leave?”

“It was because of how he drifted. It’s so fucked up. The drift is all about the _connection_ , the neural bridge between two people, yeah? Every time I drifted with him… it was like he was unreachable.”

“You mean there was no neural bridge created?”

“No, no. The drift still happened. We were still… connected… but he would cut himself off. I couldn’t feel him at all—it felt like I was alone in there. It was awful,”

There’s silence. They’re not that far away from you now; they could round the corner and see you.

Then, your ex-partner says “If you can’t drift with him, don’t worry about it. It’s because he’s one of those lifetime program rangers: they’re super weird. They don’t drift like other people,”

The ice in your possible partner’s voice is pronounced when he says “I see. Thank you for speaking with me,”

The sound of footsteps resumes abruptly, and then he’s rounding the corner. He spots you immediately, and you give him a little wave for the trouble. He looks angry, the kind of residual anger you can sense in rocks shaped by the course of wind, or trees cracked by lightning.

You don’t know why he’s angry. There had been nothing untrue in what your ex-partner had said.

You can drift with anybody. It is because you do not drift with your head, you drift with your heart, which is not particularly full or present. You remind yourself, maybe gently, because there’s nobody else to be gentle to you, that this is probably not going to work. There is no reason that it should be different now from the countless other times, countless other trials.

You stand up and the two of you walk the rest of the way side by side, to where you had been told to meet. The Marshal is standing there. This tells you that this partner is your last chance, their last act of mercy for you before it’s too late.

You can’t fuck this up.

“You’ll be trialling in a new Jaeger,” the supervisor from before tells you as she checks her clipboard. “Hyper Light Guardian,” she reads off, “the fastest and most agile jaeger currently in service. Attack focused, your main weapons are two blades that extend from your arms. Any questions?”

You both shake your heads.

As you walk up to the Jaeger, you make eye contact with the Marshal. They stare at you, stoic as ever.

You and your new partner are both silent as you prepare for the drift. It has been so long since you’ve felt the weight of a helm and suit on your shoulders and despite everything, it sets you free, reminds you of what it feels like to have a purpose. You look over at him, wondering if he is going to say anything, but he simply looks forward in serenity.

It’s time, then. You hear the static, the _initiating neural bridge_ , and then the drift has you in its arms once again.

After being away for so long it is like finally releasing your breath after holding it, the way the drift spreads out around you and inside you. It is achingly familiar and you are ready to lose yourself in it, surrendering to the power it has, when you feel something.

It’s another presence, warmer by far than the reach of the drift. It stops you from losing yourself in the feeling and becoming one with the drift and you would fight it if it didn’t feel so familiar, so in place.

It is your partner, you realize numbly. He tangles his presence with yours and pulls you further from the drift, holding you back, holding you up. He shows you where to go, how to walk the tightrope that stretches across the drift, keeping you from falling. You are drawn into something else completely, a blur of colours and sounds and _life_ that is a far cry from the cool emptiness of the drift. It is almost too much to take, but then he is there to bear the burden and you think _oh, oh, oh_.

The two of you fall into step. You move in sync, deploying the blades, testing the bend and twist of every limb and function with an awareness that you’ve never had before while in a Jaeger.

You feel it, a connection that runs deeper than you ever expected your shallow heart to render, and when you surface, you feel the echoes there still to keep you company.

You take off your helm, fingers fumbling at the straps in your haste, and you are breathless when you meet his gaze.

He asks, “How was that?”. You realize that he already knows the answer.

You nod and quietly, as if you’re sharing a secret, you say “This will work.”

When you two report, the Marshal looks as impartial as ever. You don’t care.

* * *

 You have another person in your room again, and it is not as intrusive as you would have imagined. Even with your last partner, he had opted to stay in his old room, which means that you’ve had a long time to get used to being alone. Yet, your new partner slides seamlessly into your routine.

Sitting on your bed, you say “You were a cadet. A lifetime cadet.” That was why you had recognized him, that first time. Your drift had reawakened the faraway memories.

He nods, slowly and sure. “I was,” he confirms.

“I remember you,” you tell him, because you feel like it’s important that he knows.

He replies “I remember you too. You were terrible at soccer,”

You make a sound, and it comes out a little strangled due to how you try to stifle it. It takes you both a moment to realize what it was: a _laugh_. You had just laughed.

“I… I was, yes,” you say, a little bewildered.  He nods, something of a shine in his eyes. You’re both silent for a while. Then: “Why did you leave?”

He, for the first time you know of, smiles.

“I met someone,” he says, his voice turning wistful. “She was my heart. I left to make a family, start a life.”

You breathe out, nodding. Although you both had the same start, it’s obvious your lives have differed greatly. He has… he has _had_ a life. He has known things unimaginable to you. All that you have known is the drift.

You don’t ask him about what happened to his family, both because you think you’ve already seen it and because it’s easy enough to gather. He wouldn’t have reentered the force otherwise.

He says “She’s gone now,” anyway. You suppose there are merits in saying things aloud, even if you already know them. “My entire family, killed in a kaiju attack.”

He sounds tired. He sounds sad. You feel sorry, but you know well enough to know that it won’t be welcome.

Instead, you stretch out your arms and say “What a blockbuster worthy backstory,”

He gives a short huff, which you take as a good sign. You continue with “Maybe you’ll become the hero of the Kaiju war. The media will be falling over themselves to purchase the rights to your tale,”

He looks at you, pinning you in place with something as small as a stare. He says “If I do, that means you will as well. We’re partners now,”

You don’t know what to do under that look, so you do what you always do. You shrug and say “You’re right. Please try to avoid becoming a hero, I don’t want to be dragged into that.”

“Most people doing this would jump at the chance to be a hero,” he counters.

You smile at him. It is genuine. You say “I am not most people,”

“You are right,” he says. “That’s why you’re most suited to it,”

You’ve viewed being a hero as a burden your whole life, so you don’t know why it seems so light when he suggests it.

* * *

 You lose another team in your first fight together, and although you two perform well, the way back is heavy with silence. You’re both well versed in silence, but this one is not a pleasant one. You can’t translate your feelings through it, nor can you feel anything from him. It is just that: silent.

That night, your old friend comes to sit in your room as well. The three of you are silent, and it is the first time that you realize your relationship with your partner has gone beyond stepping on and off the Jaeger together.

You two are comfortable with each other’s silence. Your old friend is not. He talks, and sometimes he falls silent, before launching into another disconcerted ramble. You gather that the two rangers who had died in battle were once his cadets, so you let him ramble. You know it is all he can do.

In the meantime, you watch your partner. Carefully, for signs of anything that shouldn’t be there. Signs that are telltale to you, and invisible to anybody else.

He catches you watching, and there is something in the deliberate way he meets your gaze that tells you he will be okay. He asks the same for you, a silent request, and you shrug it off. Of course, you will be okay. You make your livelihood in it.

He seems to accept your silent answer.

That night, however, when you crawl into bed, it suddenly feels too big and too empty. You say, into the darkness, hoping for an answer: “Hey,”

He answers, of course. “Yes?”

You hesitate, and it proves all too much for you in that moment of hesitation. You say “Nope, nevermind,” and ignore that your silence feels so very wanting.

* * *

 You never questioned why you were given a new Jaeger until one day you’re leant over the bathroom sink, hacking out your lungs and watching the red of blood splatter around you, overtaking any water left in the sink.

He finds you like this: curled up over the sink, head down and hands gripping the counter so tightly they turn white, and his expression goes stony. He takes you to see the doctor. You feel like you can’t breathe.

Unsurprisingly, the Marshal is there.

Radiation, the doctor explains, from the earlier jaegers. Usually, it only resulted from prolonged exposure. And your exposure has been so very long. Most of the lifetime cadets experience it.

The doctor reassures you that you will be okay, that there is medicine and alleviation, but you barely pay attention. It is not something to recover from, you imagine.

A life half-lived. A fate given to you that you have never deviated from. A consequence to your efforts. A sacrifice, probably to be made one day. You are slowly accumulating all of the side-effects of being a hero, and none of the glory.

The Marshal says nothing.

When you go back to your room later that day, he is waiting. He already knows, of course.

He says “I have it too,”

You nod.

He says again, “Less. I don’t think… You are…” You hear him hesitate over his words for the first time.  

He finally says, “You are not most people,” and you understand what he means. Your chest hurts and it tells you that maybe the others, people who didn't throw themselves into this like you have, might make it out alive, but you won't.

That night, he climbs into bed and watches you walk out of the bathroom, cleaning blood from your mouth. He opens his covers, and you do not have the strength to say no. You think you might find a different strength that night, kept warm by his embrace.

* * *

 One day, he says “Why do you fight, if you don't want to be a hero?” The two of you have just come back from a successfully countered attack, and you are weary from both the battle and the consequent celebrations.

You pause, setting down the fork you were just about to eat from. You think over that for a while, even though you already have an answer.

“It's what I've trained for. It's all I know. It's what's required of me.”

He doesn't mention that all of those are different reasons phrased to seem the same.

He does not argue, does not ask which one you truly believe in. The answer is none, and you are sure that that’s obvious.

Instead, he says “What will do you when it's over, then?”

You have never given this question much thought. Have never let yourself give it much thought, but he is here and you are here too and you feel safer and more vulnerable than you have in your life.

“I don't know,” you say. He is silent. You feel like you should be asking him that, instead, because he is the one who knows how life is meant to be lived.

* * *

 You catch him coughing one day, and it horrifies you to know that you can still not know things about somebody whose head you live in.

You say “You said it was less,” and it isn’t an accusation, but it isn’t a statement either.

In the resulting silence, you can't meet his eyes. It doesn't make sense. He sounds… sounds as bad as you, and yet he had been out of the program for so long.

He murmurs “I piloted solo once. Saved the life of a civilian. My wife's mother. It affected my health badly, and I left soon after,”

You know this, you realize. You’ve seen that tale before. The drift tells you so much that you cannot make sense of until he says it out for you, lays it bare for you to understand.

“Well,” you say, “at least we're in it together.”

He laughs. It fills you with an irrational amount of gladness. Lately, you only hear his laughter in the drift, when memories sneak up behind you to taunt you about what you can’t have.

You let him clean up the blood and pass him a bottle of water, and the two of you make do with what you have.

* * *

 The end comes one day: an ordinary day, by all means. The Marshal summons you to their office and with no fanfare, they announce “We’re going for the cell.”

The cell, which has formed underneath the cold ocean, is nothing any of you know how to identify. It gives the kaiju their power. It allows them to manifest in your world. It is guarded.

Guarded by a hulking, shadowy beast of a kaiju, named Judgement. It appeared along with the cell, on the first day of the invasion, and another kaiju soon followed. However, it never left the cell’s side. Teams have been sent down to try and kill it before and it has ripped them apart without mercy, without hesitation. Eventually, the cost had been too high and it had been left to patrol the waters, protecting what is undoubtedly the key to ending this war.

You wonder what has changed, for you to go after it again. Maybe nothing has changed but you.

The Marshal says “Only Hyper Light Guardian will be undertaking this journey,” and you’re certain that if they could, they would send you down there alone.

You ask, “Only us?” and savour the word us on your tongue before it’s too late.

The Marshal nods. You wonder if they’ll actually answer your question.

In the end, all they say is “You will succeed.” You add on  _and if you don’t, you're both dying anyway_ , in your head on behalf of the Marshal and nod. Beside you, your partner nods too, and you somehow find it within you to be angry. It is not an emotion you have felt in a long, long time.

When you walk back to your room, your partner puts a hand at your back. The world is going to shit, but you steady anyway under that soft touch.

In a few days, you will board your Jaeger. You will enter the drift, but not lose yourself in it. You will go to face your judgement.

He says “After this is over, you should come live with me. My house is empty and you are—”. He quietens. Then, he says, certain, “There is nobody like you,”

You find yourself grinning. “Okay,” you say, “yes. Absolutely.”

“There is a whole world out there,” he says. “Let me show you the way. We can…”

You fill in his silence. “Go travelling. Something fun. Adventure,” You say, wry and reminiscent.

He does not quite understand your words, but he nods anyway.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “we can do that,” He says that with the weight of _we can do anything_ , and you don’t believe it but you’d like to, and it’s been an awfully long time since you’d liked anything. Except for him. You like him immensely, you find.

“This is a death mission,” you say. You still sound cheerful, a trait that has long unnerved every other person you’ve spoken to in this manner, but all he does is smile.

He breathes in deeply, closes his eyes. Then he says “Let us see it to the end,”

You suppose that’s the best you can do.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this fic, please consider donating to my ko-fi! it's linked in [my carrd](http://arashiyama.carrd.co) \- thank you so much if you do!
> 
> DISCLAIMER that nobody needs or wants but i still need to say: this is not what i actually think of the idea of drifting and the jaeger organization. i kind of adapted the concept to fit hld a little better and i know that nobody cares but i still need to say it bc im a pacrim nerd that this isn't what i believe is to be canon. and like i don't even know if the way drifter drifts (lol) at first is even plausible within canon. also this fic is in no way shape or form related to pacrim: uprising, which was a good movie but terrible sequel. also like, training child soldiers is bad. ALSO I KNOW "HYPER LIGHT GUARDIAN" DEVIATES FROM JAEGER NAMING CONVENTION LEAVE ME ALONE
> 
> there are 5 hld characters in this incl driftguard! no names named in this but i hope they're all obvious enough lol... also some ocs yall know how it is hld doesnt have that many relevant characters


End file.
